


Everybody can be great

by Actually_Felicity_Smoak



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Dismantling Fire Nation Supremacy, Fire Nation (Avatar), Meditation, Political Allegories, Zuko Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actually_Felicity_Smoak/pseuds/Actually_Felicity_Smoak
Summary: The practicalities of rebuilding a world torn by war
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “Everybody can be great...because anybody can serve. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.”
> 
> ― Martin Luther King Jr.

There had been a lot of tears when the war ended.

Not right away. Even chained up, Azula was dangerous; they had to spend all their attention, all their effort, to move her to a place where she could vent her frustration, rage, and pain without dealing damage to anyone else, and it took hours to do it safely. It would have taken longer than that, but the Fire Nation already had a lot -- a  _ lot _ \-- of fireproof cells.

Katara couldn't remember who'd wept first, after that. She and Zuko had both been exhausted, both their bending and mundane capabilities stretched to the limit. But in a crisis, you do the job in front of you, and they had both done that. Get to the palace, subdue Azula, transfer her to the cells.... and then there was no task. The sudden shock was almost harder to take than the blows in combat. She'd been living with combat for so long, living with fear, ignoring the doubt, focusing on the next thing to do -- she'd forgotten what it meant, to relax.

And then the tears hit

She and Zuko had wept, together, on the stairs leading from the prison, trickling prickly tears leaking from their eyes with the sudden release of pressure. Then laughed, seeing each other, like when two people say the same thing at the same time. Then wept again, laughing at the same time, every possible emotion mixed into an incomprehensible muddle and bursting to get out.

Then they'd pulled themselves together and gone to get dinner. Then wept again, incomprehensibly, at the realization that they had no idea what the future held.

"What does it mean, not to be at war?" she'd asked.

"I don't know," Zuko had replied.

There were more tears when Aang arrived with no-longer-firelord Ozai; with Sokka and Suki holding hands and smiling; with Toph and Iroh bantering, her laughing insults always landing and yet never affecting his joyous calm. Tears of joy, seeing everyone standing, moving, with no missing limbs -- bandages, yes, but alive and safe. Tears of relief, as they hugged, and changed partners, and hugged again. Tears of laughter, once Aang explained the punishment he'd devised for Ozai. It wasn't properly funny, really. But if you couldn't laugh together with friends, afterwards, then why had they fought the war? And no one could fail to see the irony, that Ozai's confidence in the supremacy of fire-bending, that caused him to learn no other martial art, should be his downfall.

Tears for days. Sometimes at night, or early mornings; they spread out their bedrolls in the throne room -- the beds in the palace were too soft, too different, to sleep in just yet -- and comforted each other through nightmares. Sokka claimed to be unaffected, but had to be coaxed to sleep, hours of negotiation every night. Zuko had trouble waking up in the mornings, and -- once awake -- even more trouble getting himself out of bed. Aang broke up fights, offered reassurance, and demanded that each of them be patient with each other -- and with themselves. But Aang had his share of tears, of late nights, of days he couldn't bring himself to move.

They got through. They arranged the coronation. They were reunited with family -- some blood, some chosen. The new firelord's first duty was to negotiate the terms of peace, and a few weeks in Ba Sing Se helped to calm everyone further. They practiced not keeping watch; they practiced not jumping at every sound; they practiced not coming back to focus on the war after each joke. Iroh made music and Zuko made tea; Aang made jokes and Toph made sculptures. The tears slowed. Gratitude grew. They started rebuilding the world, beginning with their own hearts.

So it surprised Katara, when she turned the corner down an unlit, dusty hallway in the fire palace, and found Zuko crouched over, curled up against the wall, crying harder than she'd ever seen -- sobs more gut-wrenching than the day his father had been imprisoned, body curled tighter than the night he'd dreamed of his mother's death.

"Zuko?"

He flinched, though you had to know Zuko to see it; when surprised, he froze -- the greater surprise, the greater his stillness. He was unmoving now, still as Toph's statues. Still as the wall next to him, as though he might blend in, turn to stone, and be overlooked thereby.

Katara stepped in to touch his shoulder. "Zuko, what's wrong?"

He sat up, wiped his face. "Nothing, I'm fine." He inhaled deeply, as if it were his lung capacity that was in doubt.

Katara didn't dignify that with a response; just crossed her arms and waited.

Zuko sat back against the wall.

Katara waited.

"I've got it under control!" he burst out, sitting up suddenly. "OK? I'm handling it. Spirits, you're as bad as Uncle!"

Katara smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Zuko froze again. Then sat back with a snort. "I guess it is."

Katara sat down next to him. They were both silent for a few minutes.

"I don't know what to do," he said finally. "It's just -- it's one thing to say I'm going to restore the honor of my nation. But when you sit down and look at what that involves -- " he trailed off.

"Like what?"

He sighed and put his head in his hands. "Fire Nation Supremacy is just so integral to everything we do here; it's the foundation of every system I'm in charge of. It's the basis of our economy -- the majority of wealth flowing into our coffers is treasure stolen from other nations, and at least half of the rest is from industries that make weapons and supply the army. If I shut down the army, we go from the wealthiest nation in the world to less than a quarter of what we're used to, overnight.  _ And  _ we'd have thousands of people unemployed at the same moment. People would go hungry -- my people, the people I swore I'd protect! But if I don't dismantle the army, then I've got the largest military in the world, and what am I supposed to do with that? No one's going to believe I don't intend to use it. And anyway if I don't use it, I can't pay them.

My generals are pissed at me for throwing away their victories. My people think that glory means a knock-down drag-out fight, so they think I'm taking away their glory. I owe the Earth Kingdom reparations, but I'm about to lose 80% of my revenue and have to put down rebellion from the army. And while I'm trying to fix those problems, our schools are still teaching that the Fire Nation has done nothing wrong, ever, and the next generation of Fire Nation Supremacists is being taught to hate every reform I'm trying to make. The Jang Hui River is still poisoning people, as are most of the other rivers in our nation.

I've got thousands of wrongfully-imprisoned captives that I need to release, but not all of them are wrongfully imprisoned, and I need to sort through which ones are which and I can't trust any underlings to do it because Mai's uncle is actually one of the more decent wardens I have working for me. I can't trust underlings to do any of it, because everyone in the nation hates me and hates what I'm trying to do and will fight me every step of the way, but I can't do it by myself, and it all needs to be done right now and I can't even figure out which one to do first!"

When she was sure he was done, Katara spoke as gently as she could. “OK, that is a lot of stress and fear --”

“No, really?” Zuko snapped. 

“-- but anger isn’t going to help right now. So the first thing to do is take a couple of deep breaths.”

Zuko closed his eyes, and swallowed hard, but did as she said. After the third breath, he said, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Katara smiled. “The next thing is to remember that you’re not alone. You have the Avatar, and the White Lotus, and the leaders of all the other nations. So the next thing to do is start talking with them and getting good people informing these decisions.” She stood up and pulled him to his feet. “Let’s get started.”


	2. Chapter 2

"I mean, Zuko, you're just one person,” Aang unconsciously echoed Katara’s words as they sat around the table in the Firelord’s council chambers.

"I am painfully aware, thanks," Zuko growled.

Aang held up a hand. "That's not a bad thing! It's just --" he broke off, looking thoughtful. Finally, he sat up straight. "Mister Firelord, sir. Permission to speak freely?"

Zuko snorted. "When have you ever done anything else?"

Aang just looked at him with that eager wide-eyed innocence. Zuko finally waved a hand. "Permission granted."

Aang still spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. "I know you want to dismantle fire nation supremacy, and I'm really proud of you for deciding that. And I totally understand your eagerness to get out there and start changing the world, and that's really good, but there's also going to be a lot of personal work required from everyone in the fire nation, and I think one of the best things you could do is to provide a role model to your citizens for doing that sort of --"

"You can't rebuild the fire nation on a new system as long as you're still using the old way of thinking," Toph said.

Aang blew out a frustrated breath and glanced to see how Zuko was taking it. Zuko frowned and turned to her. "And you think I'm still thinking like my father?"

"Oh yeah, definitely," Toph said.

Zuko sat back and rubbed his eyes. "OK," he said finally. "That's good news, maybe. If it's my old ways of thinking that are creating this mess, maybe there's a way out of this dilemma. He sat up straight the way he would at one of Uncle's lessons. "Which part of my logic was based on fire nation supremacist thinking?"

The gaang exchanged glances. "Well --" Aang began, but Toph interrupted him again.

"There's more than one. Just so you know."

Zuko took a deep breath. "OK," he said on the exhale. "Let's start with just one right now."

Everyone glanced at each other again -- by silent vote, Aang was elected spokesperson.

"So here's the thing, Zuko. Your dad was -- your whole family is kinda -- kinda really focused on, like, this kind of -- The One Great Leader thing. Like the family has absolute power over the nation, and the firelord has absolute power over the family, and so really only there's one person that matters, right?"

Zuko squinted. "Sure."

"But, like, that's now how things work. I mean, I should know -- I'm the avatar. But I couldn't have stopped those disasters on the day of the comet by myself. I had to take out Ozai, sure, because that was my job. But even though he thought he was the only thing that mattered, stopping Ozai wasn't enough. I could have stopped him and the Earth kingdom would still have been destroyed -- I needed Sokka and Toph and Suki to stop the fleet. We could have stopped the fleet and Ba Sing Se would still be an impenetrable stronghold for fire nation troops to resist your rule -- we needed the White Lotus to cover that part. I certainly couldn't take out Ozai over there and also Azula back here -- I needed you and Katara to restrain her for me. If even the "Phoenix Lord" can't conquer a nation by himself, if even the Avatar can't save the world without help, why would you think you could do this project on your own?"

Zuko had his eyes closed, listening. After a long pause, he nodded.

"Yes, that is true," he said, opening his eyes. "So what do I do about it?"

Aang looked around, but Sokka and Katara seemed willing for him to keep speaking, and Toph was leaning back in her chair, balancing it on two legs, apparently content to wait until she thought someone was spending too many words beating around the bush.

"Well, you've got to stop thinking about this as a problem that you will solve. This is a problem that the fire nation will solve, if it is to be solved at all. You can't  _ make  _ people be good -- that's just Ozai's philosophy pushing in a different direction."

"It's like Pai Sho," Sokka put in suddenly. "You can't say 'this piece won the game' or 'that piece was the only one that mattered'. Not only is it not true, but that kind of thinking will lose you the game. It's not about which is the "Master Piece". It's about using the strengths of each piece, in the ways that will allow it to most contribute to the overall goal."

Zuko was still frowning. Katara picked up the thread. "There are going to be lots and lots of people involved in this project. Your job is to contribute the things that only you can do. What do you have that other people don't?"

Zuko shrugged. "I'm decently good at firebending. I can redirect lightning. I know how to use a sword."

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Toph's chair landed with a thunk. "You're still thinking like the fatherlord." Her voice deepened to a mockery of Ozai, "'Firebender this. Martial artist that.' Who cares?" She planted her feet and pushed the chair back again. "You have the ability to create official state approval of anything you want.  _ That’s  _ your weapon in this war."


	3. Chapter 3

Late that night in meditation, Zuko wrestled with two opposing perspectives.

_It's my responsibility to correct the harm done by the Fire Nation_   
_Even the Avatar can't save the world without help._

One of the things the dragons had shown him was that renouncing his father's philosophy wasn't enough: he also had to root out all the places that philosophy had directed and decided his own. Some of them -- like the belief that your honor could be determined by another -- were relatively easy. Others, like this one, were more subtle. Zuko took a moment to be grateful that his friends trusted him enough to tell him bad news, and had enough faith in his conversion to the good side to believe that he wanted to hear it.

_I promised to protect them. I swore I would. That makes it my job_   
_If the Phoenix Lord can't even conquer a nation on his own, what chance do I have?_   
_If I can't do my job, I'm a failure_

He recognized that last thought as the first step on a bad road, and took a deep breath.  _ No. Failure to do the impossible does not make ME a failure. _ He re-centered himself, and focused on his breath until the panic subsided.

When two apparent realities contradict each other, then you must be interpreting one of them incorrectly. Uncle had taught him that years ago, although -- Zuko rubbed his topknot ruefully -- it hadn't really sunk in what he was trying to say until long afterwards.

_Wish he'd just said, 'Zuko, everything your father told you was wrong'._   
  
_I probably wouldn't have listened though._   
  
Zuko sighed. _I wish Uncle were here_

Not that it would do much good. He knew exactly what Iroh would say. "Zuko, only you can find the answers that lie within yourself." Zuko frowned and brought himself back to the problem at hand.

_This is my job_   
_But I can't do this job_   
_If it's impossible to do, then there is no dishonor in failing_   
_But this is my job_

He examined these statements carefully. The third one he was unwilling to compromise on. It had taken him much too long to learn that one, but it had finally stuck. He turned his attention to the second one.

The second one seemed the most suspect to him. It  _ felt _ wrong. But given his upbringing, there were two equally likely reasons for that: either it was wrong .... or it was completely and entirely accurate, and his feelings were being driven by assumptions based on bad philosophies that he'd absorbed before he was old enough to even remember. And unfortunately, the only way to tell the difference was to slowly and carefully pick through them by hand.

_ Why does it feel wrong? _

Because this was his job. It couldn't be impossible if it was his responsibility.

_ Except obviously it can. There's no guarantee that every problem is solvable. _

Claiming something is impossible is a great way to evade your duties without feeling bad about being lazy.

_ That's true. _ He took another breath and contemplated some more, until the answer rose up:  _ So the fundamental question is whether or not it truly is impossible. Can it be done, and I'm just being lazy? Or is it actually an unreasonable demand? _

Aang thought it was unreasonable; so did Toph, or she'd have said something.  _ It's sure nice having someone I can always trust to speak up. _ Toph would never lie to him, and that made her blunt insults obscurely comforting.

And Aang's logic seemed more sound than Zuko's. His argument was well-supported with examples; Zuko only had a vague sense that the world ought not assign responsibilities that couldn't be met.

So if the Avatar and the Avatar's friends and logic all pointed in the same direction, that was probably the correct direction. Very well. Accept statement two. That left statement one.

_ This is my job _

He examined it carefully. It seemed straightforward enough. Not a lot of room for discussion or modification. He was the firelord. The fire nation was his responsibility. End of story. And yet it didn't feel as solidly confident as it ought to have. He frowned, and centered himself, and breathed.

The answer, when it arose half an hour later, didn't even seem at first like an answer. It looked like a diversion.

_ You think you should do it. But it can't be done. There's a word for someone who thinks they can do things that are impossible. What is it? _

Egomaniac. Presumptuous. Arrogant.

So check that judgement.  _ Is my father arrogant? _

He snorted.  _ Finally, a question with an easy answer. _

All right, so Ozai was arrogant. And he had, through his example, taught Zuko to be arrogant.

_ Is that what this is? _

He examined the current situation through that lens; imagined that this impossible problem was a result of his pride, that it was conceited to even think for a moment that he ought to have done it himself. Did that interpretation make sense?

Zuko felt his cheeks heat as the answer came to him.

It took several minutes of patient, quiet breathing to return to equilibrium. At least he'd had a lot of practice coming to terms with his own personal failures lately.

_ All right, then. How would a humble person approach this problem? _


	4. Chapter 4

After an hour or so of stillness, Zuko stood up and walked to his desk. A clean sheet of paper was there waiting, and the ink was ready to be mixed.

> _ Dearest Uncle, _
> 
> _ As you no doubt foresaw, I have been struggling with how to redeem the Fire Nation. Forgetting the lessons you taught me, I kept this struggle to myself until Katara found me crying in that back hallway that runs from the kitchens to the library. She dragged me out and called a council meeting, and Aang finally managed to explain to me how arrogant I was to think that I could redeem anyone but myself. _
> 
> _ In trying to approach this problem with more humility, then, I have decided that my first duty is not to decree, but to hearken. Thus, instead of declaring reparations for the Earth Kingdom, I ought rather to consider the needs and desires that they themselves express. _
> 
> _ Sokka explained that I need to stop thinking of myself as the head of a body; that I am actually a member of a team, like a Pai Sho set -- that a piece is not powerful on its own, but instead derives power from the ways that its unique capabilities can be of use in the place that it is, relative to the board and to the other pieces. The question is not “which piece is most important?” but “how can I use the pieces I have to achieve my aims?” _
> 
> _ What I need, to achieve my aims with the reparations project, is someone who understands the Fire Nation -- our resources and our limitations -- but has the wisdom and patience to listen and learn well enough to understand the Earth Nation. It would be best if this person were also respected in both nations, and better still if that person were known to be trusted by the firelord, but also was in a position to gain an audience with the Earth King. _
> 
> _ And so, Uncle, although I know you have no taste for politics and would prefer simply to be a proprietor of the best tea shop in Ba Sing Se, I must ask of you a favor. Can you ask Kuei what they want? And send some recommendations back to me about what would be the most appropriate ways to go about making up the damages to them? _
> 
> _ Of course any other advice you care to offer would also be gratefully welcomed. _
> 
> _ Love from your dutiful nephew, _
> 
> _ Zuko _

He weighted the scroll out to dry, and finally began to prepare himself for bed.

A humble man, he'd decided, would approach this problem by  _ listening _ .

**Author's Note:**

> I am a white US citizen trying, for the first time, to come to terms with my people's legacy. Since Zuko's going through the same sort of struggle, it made sense to try to base my redemption arc on his.
> 
> If you would like to listen, the good news is that you don't even need access to the Earth King to do so. Here are some resources to get you started. 
> 
> https://www.naacp.org/about-us/game-changers/  
> https://www.joincampaignzero.org/solutions#solutionsoverview  
> https://www.themarshallproject.org/  
> http://www.ncai.org/initiatives/campaigns  
> https://fairimmigration.org/movement


End file.
